© COPYRIGHT

© (Yusuf Adedamola and Asikpata David) and (ClimaX Erotic Reads) (2017).
Unauthorised use and or duplication of any material on this site (Images, Stories, Letters, Poems), without express and written permission from this site's authors/owners is strictly prohibited.
Excerpts and Links may be used, provided that Full, concise and clear credit is given to (Yusuf Adedamola and Asikpata David) and (ClimaX Erotic Reads) with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Tuesday, 14 February 2017

WHISPERS


I might scream at the top of my voice that i hate you, but remember that it's in my whispers that the truth lies.
Fvck how the outside looks, suits and ties.
Deep within, my heart speaks...but to you it's mere hushed silence.
I know you've been plotting graphs to figure out my heart's ambience.
Most times you can't figure if my aura is dark red or cloudy green.
You can't decide if i've got on a warm smile or a sarcastic grin.

But i send these messages to you, i guess you don't understand the code.
I guess your network is on the edge and it might just tip over.
I bet you think am 'Dinho with these leg overs.
I bet you think am treating you like a leftover.
All these thoughts got me sober.

Would you just listen to the voices in my head, and the whispers of my tongue as they pierce the air.
Listen for a second, 2,3 and 4 till it gets to a minute.
I never meant those words exactly the way they came out.
I would never directly give you hits, even if i was a musical artiste.
There are only a couple of things that could keep me at ease.

One of them would definitely be that you and i are in sync.
Watch the bad blood go down the drain through the kitchen sink.
It's because you can't hear me that i scream in agitation.
But when i do my messages get distorted.

The lines become all blurry.
And you don't even try to be patient to get it, babe why be in such a hurry?
I know you ain't gat the time, but atleast throw a hopeful "3" and you might just score like curry.
You might just connect the dots like a kindergarten pupil.

So just cultivate me like a rare specie of tulips and watch me bloom for you.
Do so gently and diligently, we don't want this to spell doom for you.
So just know in my heart that there's room for you.
Just know that beneath the baritone, there's a whisper that sings soul to you
Beneath this shmuck face, there's another that lights up for you. 

It's all in the whispers.

No comments:

Post a Comment